


meet me at the intersection of love

by coppertears



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, street vendor!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:37:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7228480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coppertears/pseuds/coppertears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>chanyeol falls in love every time the sun sets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
**meet me at the intersection of love**  
chanyeol/various, kris/baekhyun, chanyeol/baekhyun  
pg-13  
w: swearing  
chanyeol falls in love every time the sun sets.

 

 

 

 

more than a hundred daisy petals have shriveled to dust by the time chanyeol crosses the street towards somewhere that speaks of sentimentality. he's all brisk walk and no second to spare, long legs flying over sidewalks in an attempt to make it in time. ahead of him is someone he can't let go of, and in this spring air he feels suffocated and exhausted and _alive_. so he lengthens his strides, trying but failing to catch the attention he needs, and he knows it's a lost cause when the skies begin to bleed.

sometimes he thinks chasing love down walkways that lead nowhere is less of a noble goal and more of a pursuit he's lost scent of a few miles in. he can't help it -- can't help the way chemicals flood his system and fry his nerves, can't help being so in love with the idea of love that everyone passing him by is his soulmate.

and there are times when he gets to approach them, when he's more than just a shadow trailing their footsteps when the sun's at its peak. friendships form and identities are exchanged, and for a moment chanyeol thinks he's finally got it right. but the feeling soon leaves him because _it_ doesn't happen, and he's always on the brink of platonic relationships but not one that will last forever, and chanyeol earns acquaintances the way he earns money.

he wishes something in his luck will change. that he'll find the piece he's been missing ever since it's chosen to leave a chunk of his heart empty, and maybe his piece is out there in between raindrops and sunshine, and chanyeol has to keep his eyes peeled because this is an _almost_ world he lives in. one chance is a chance too many.

his steps slow and he stands there, trapped in the mosaic of a setting sun, and he remembers all the other days he thinks he's found love just before it flees.

 

 

 

 

he comes across luhan in a cafe overflowing with silence.

it's a sudden desire for an energy boost that has chanyeol veering from the highway to a free parking spot, and as he tumbles out of his car he nearly forgets to grab his wallet. the cafe's a nondescript thing blending into aging walls and grime-coated lampposts, its windows veiled by dust, but chanyeol's learned to ignore the facade that greets him. there are things that come wrapped in life's tatters and are shunned all too often, and it's a pity how some people never really learn to look beyond the surface and see what's underneath.

inside it's filled with the heady scent of early morning brews and hints of vanilla, and as chanyeol stumbles past the shadowy forms of people and tables, he thinks that everyone leaves home when their beds are a degree colder. he looks up at the menu as if he's considering trying something else, but _americano, please_ leaves his lips with too much ease, and chanyeol is reminded that there are some things in his life that he likes to keep constant.

he sits at a table across from a boy with bleary eyes and a face painted with new beginnings, and as the boy blinks away dreams it's as though stars are caught up in his eyelashes. the sight mesmerizes chanyeol for a second too long, and before he can feign interest in summer deals and june promos, the boy holds his gaze. then a smile stretches the boy's lips apart, and chanyeol feels a tell-tale _thud_ in his chest. his fingers fumble for his cup, and he swallows bitterness with a tinge of fairytale sweetness, and chanyeol doesn't quite know where to look.

"my name's luhan," a voice says, and chanyeol looks up to see the boy standing in front of him. he sets down his americano and tries to maintain eye contact. but luhan is just so _pretty_ , so doll-like and delicate and demure, that all other words just crash out of the window and chanyeol thinks he's desecrated something holy if he doesn't move his gaze away.

"i'm chanyeol," chanyeol says, aware of how his vocal chords quiver with equal parts fear, wonder, anticipation and relief.

luhan slips him a card and flies away like angels do, and chanyeol picks up the card with dancing fingers. there is a line of numbers, luhan's name written in various characters (chinese, korean, english), logos that chanyeol can't recognize and an address. he tucks it in between his credit card and his own business card, and he's got time but chanyeol gulps down the rest of his drink.

the next time they meet is at a patch of grass near a wrought-iron park bench that's collapsing under the weight of the sun. chanyeol runs his hands over the wrinkles in his shirt and misses the strangled feeling of a tie around his neck, but luhan soon appears in clothes far more casual than his own, and he relaxes. it's taken him a week and two days to try tapping out the numbers on the card, and another three to actually press _call_.

"hey," luhan says, laugh lines emerging from the folds of smooth white skin, and it's a little less refined but chanyeol likes it.

so he says an enthusiastic "hey" back, wondering if this is his chance, wondering if this is the beginning of a story he's been putting off for so long. but when luhan's fingers fill the spaces in chanyeol's hand, something's a little amiss, and chanyeol feels it all throughout the rides and the popcorn wars and the gory movie that they laugh at for an entire hour. and when they part he sees the same thing in luhan's eyes, the same feeling of _not quite_ buried deep in his brown irises, and they don't even need to say the words out loud.

"it's always nice to make new friends," luhan says, and chanyeol nods back at him. they don't quite become what they expected to be that day in the hole-in-the-wall cafe, but chanyeol knows genuine friends are hard to come by these days.

so when he texts luhan it's not a variation of _i love you_ and _second date next week?_ and _i had fun_. instead he texts luhan a _thank you_ and a smile, and when they hang out he finds that they're a better fit as two companions trying to swipe away the haze of a hangover.

chanyeol keeps searching.

 

 

 

 

there are days when he's in his office and the world moves too slow, and chanyeol watches the earth's revolutions until his mind's dizzy with motion. he thinks of burning skies and cracked pavements, of tracking hope down to deadends that crush everything out of him, and he doesn't know how long he can keep this up.

desperation has a hundred names and chanyeol's fallen for all of them, and every single time emptiness just keeps knocking into the twisted arteries of his heart. and biology lessons tell him that everything starts in the brain, but if that's true then why does it feel like flames are consuming his chest?

chanyeol's born from logic and intellect, and when he's drowning in projects and reports and conferences it's impossible to associate him with daydreams. but it's one side of a coin that's been left to rust so that the polished shine of the other side can distract the public's eyes, and chanyeol thinks he's gotten so good at this that he's become desensitized.

he stares out his office window for another stolen second, and then he returns to the phone crying in its cradle and the documents groaning on his desk.

it's business as usual.

 

 

 

 

jongin is _sort of, kind of_ an anomaly. he's a red button that chanyeol presses on an impulse, and he's on the fence about whether or not he regrets it.

he sees jongin in one of the photoshoots for a product that his company is selling, and somehow he's drawn to the younger boy's natural pout, proportionate limbs, and the sharp line of his jaw striking against the white background. there's a bit of darkness hanging on to jongin's shoulders that chanyeol can't resist, and when the model sends him a glance that weighs heavy on chanyeol's skin, chanyeol forgets the word _no_.

he's not the one running, but jongin drags him through whispered conversations and snatches of promises and electric desires, and there's something about hiding that charges through chanyeol's veins. jongin is toxic, that much he's known from the start, and chanyeol knows this isn't a serious thing. and it's his first experience at a fling that's bound to go off the rails, but chanyeol's decided to let this happen _just because_.

jongin is all soul and mysteries condensing, and chanyeol's inebriated by this tanned boy who occupies too much of his senses and leaves him with tiny fragments of loss. and he spends his nights wrapped up in beats and neon lights because jongin likes to dance, melting deep into the crowd until he loses coherence.

that's what jongin is -- night lights flickering, loud thunder on sunny days, a door that keeps slamming closed. it's about the race and not the finish line, and as his heart thumps in his chest chanyeol finds that it's not so difficult to let jongin go.

they end this mad waltz somewhere between bricked-in alleys and freedom walls, and when jongin smirks at him after a cigarette kiss, chanyeol knows it's time. jongin walks away and doesn't look back, and his number still sits patiently in chanyeol's contacts, and they know that they haven't built enough of a relationship to be called friends. but from time to time they bump into each other because of their similar social circles, and chanyeol's always reminded of how flammable they both are.

he and jongin smile, shake hands, execute the requisite three lines of inquiry and move on.

 

 

 

 

if waiting can be extracted from intangibility and stored in a bottle, chanyeol thinks it'll be a nice gray sludge. there's the boredom and there's the monotony, but in reality they're both just camouflage for feelings that are too easily broken. someday he'll smash that bottle open but not now, not when he still wakes up at sunrise and makes wishes when his clock flashes **11:11** in neon green.

he has a memory box tucked into the back of his closet, and that's where nostalgia lingers on weekends when he has nothing in his hands. there are times when he can't fight back the pull and he caves in, brushing past layers of dust and spider webs to retrieve mementos that keep fading away.

there are polaroids turning yellow and pad paper letters creased to the point of ripping, and beneath the patchwork debris of the things that people leave behind, chanyeol digs out his own doubts. he's always on the edges of something he can't have, and this box is a reminder of everything that's passed him by.

he tries not to tally, but things end up etching themselves into his heart anyway.

 

 

 

 

his first real relationship is both an accident and a blessing, and it's so messed up that chanyeol doesn't quite know how to trace things back to the beginning. junmyeon's a blip in the system that shows up when chanyeol's mellow and cold and tired of believing, and chanyeol thinks that's what destroys them.

junmyeon's a supplier of the raw materials that the company needs, and chanyeol meets him in a stuffy business party where champagne is thrown away and not drunk. junmyeon's a splash of optimism in a world of routine, but that's not what makes chanyeol want to try. it's because junmyeon elbows past people with egos bigger than their names with an unapologetic smile, his personality a nice cocktail mix of recklessness and cheerfulness, and chanyeol can handle that. he's been through enough whirlwinds to start looking for something simple.

chanyeol soon realizes that junmyeon is anything but simple.

junmyeon's a double-edged sword that's difficult to wield, and he's not nearly as one-dimensional as chanyeol thinks he is. chanyeol's the one who hands over his business card but junmyeon's the one who pursues him, and before long chanyeol's gone on an endless parade of dates ranging from movie nights to ice skating escapades. before he's even aware of it he's agreed to become junmyeon's boyfriend, and chanyeol's not a masochist but he discovers he's signed up for suffocation long past the time he can turn around.

the key word for their dynamics is _perfection_ , and chanyeol can feel the way that it tries to creep into his senses when his guards are down. junmyeon smiles up at him with an innocence that's only ever been false, and everything he does is planned to the last minute detail. onscreen they're a happy couple, but even on dead pixels chanyeol can see the fissures forming.

they don't fight. but resentment seeps through silence and before long they're reduced to tense _he's my life_ s and _he's the one for me_ s when reporters ask, and chanyeol thinks that they're not asking the right questions. the world, the watchers, the media aren't asking the right questions, and chanyeol hasn't thought this through.

it takes a year and a half for junmyeon to withdraw his claws from chanyeol's heart, and by then chanyeol's so scarred that he almost doesn't feel the pain of the gashes. junmyeon's expression is brilliant but cold, and chanyeol knows that when you're blind you lose the ability to plumb beneath the thin veneer of pretenses.

when he's wiped away the last traces of junmyeon from his life and ignored enough interviews for the media to stop, chanyeol sits in his bedroom and tries to figure out how to repair the cracks of a relationship gone astray. like everyone else junmyeon never really goes away, and he's the specter that haunts chanyeol every time he walks into any business-related event. but their time together has taught them how to act, and when the spotlights are on them it's like nothing's wrong.

and maybe nothing _is_ wrong, maybe it's just that chanyeol's not bound to have anything that will last. in the harsh flashes of cameras and the chatter rising from the onlookers, junmyeon's smile gleams with tension, and chanyeol is the knife cutting through it.

they're stars building up to eventual death, and as they explode in the night sky chanyeol knows that they'll never truly heal.

 

 

 

 

chanyeol remembers being a little boy playing in the lawn, trying to catch butterflies with his bare hands. he remembers slipping and tripping and acquiring a pretty collection of bruises, and when his parents confine him to the house so he can't rip off his bandages, chanyeol looks outside with longing. the butterflies flutter past and they don't come near him, and chanyeol never catches a single one.

right now that's what love feels like, and chanyeol wonders if he's even doing the right thing. but he can't stop because he thinks that if he does he'll miss his chance, and chanyeol keeps trying. day after day he's on the streets looking for his lost piece, and there are times when he feels like he's getting close.

 _one day_.

 

 

 

 

it's a balmy day in august that sees chanyeol forgoing his usual mode of transportation, and in the rays of the rising sun he walks down the roads leading to his company's building. he's not quite sure why his tie's off and his jacket's slung across his shoulders, and he doesn't know why he's walking when his car is working fine. but there's something different about how he wakes up before his alarm, about how he has time to cook breakfast and not settle for a half-frozen muffin, and chanyeol wants to savor this day before he faces the daily work grind.

a hundred steps away from his destination he sees a small figure sitting on the sidewalk, surrounded by buckets of bracelets and necklaces and warm yellow flowers. peddling wares by the street is illegal but chanyeol feels a pang of sympathy for the vendor, so he draws closer to examine what's up for grabs.

cheap glass beads and imitations of precious stones cast rainbows on his hands as he picks up a few bracelets. the flowers droop despite their bright colors, and chanyeol thinks everything's so sad even as they pretend to be otherwise. he clears his throat to catch the attention of the vendor who's handing over change to a little girl whose hand is now encircled by blue and green beads.

when he whirls around chanyeol's met with the sweetest brown eyes and the prettiest smile, and there's something beautiful about the way the wind ruffles the vendor's hair. he says something but the vendor's words are indistinct over the sudden rush of blood in chanyeol's ears, and he swears that there's a melody playing beneath that husky voice.

 _it_ slams into chanyeol at that very moment, making him feel heady and overwhelmed and downright breathless, and it's an intense blend of emotions that makes him question his own sanity. he looks at the vendor again and he sees confusion, but beyond that chanyeol sees a future of clasped hands and chaste kisses and sunday morning cuddles.

in all the years he's spent going through corners and possibilities he might have missed, chanyeol's never felt this kind of certainty. because he's found his missing piece on a day when he least expects it, and there's something reassuring about the way his blood sings of happiness, and the sight of this small guy alone is enough to coax out the grin that's been absent from his face for so long.

"sir?" the guy says, a frown wrinkling his forehead. chanyeol scrambles back to reality.

"oh! uh, um..." chanyeol looks over the items, trying to keep himself from wrapping the vendor with questions not related to the items on sale at all, questions like _where did you hide?_ "what do you recommend?"

the guy bites his lip and he looks adorable, caught in indecision just like that. "you don't seem like the type to wear jewelry, so maybe you should get flowers?"

chanyeol tilts his head. "and what should i do with them?"

he watches as the vendor takes out a lovely bunch of tulips and presents them to chanyeol. "maybe you can put them in a vase?" he suggests with a sheepish grin, obviously not about to lose a potential customer.

"i don't have vases to put them in," chanyeol says, biting back a wicked grin when he sees the guy's shoulders sag. "but because i'm a merciful human being, i'll play along."

"merciful?" the guy scoffs with a relieved smile.

chanyeol raises an eyebrow at him."or i can walk away right now."

the guy freezes, torn between defending his statement and saving this deal. chanyeol lets him squirm for a couple more seconds before saying, "i'll let you off just this once. but," he reaches over to get the tulips, "you look like you're too young to be standing out here, selling these things. what's your name?"

"baekhyun," the guy says, counting out chanyeol's change. "and i'm not too young, i'm 28."

chanyeol's eyes widen. "i -- _how_?"

baekhyun shrugs. "i get that a lot. thanks for buying, though, mister!"

"chanyeol," chanyeol says, the response almost a reflex. "my name's chanyeol. and thank _you_.

the tulips sweat in his hand as chanyeol enters the building, and he can feel people's eyes following him wherever he goes, wondering what the reason is behind their ceo's disheveled clothes and the flowers he's holding. he sees employees bursting with intrigue and false assumptions, and as chanyeol passes them he hears: "i wonder who he'll give them to?" there are giggles that sound like mischief, and speculations flowing like water, and chanyeol bites back a treacherous smile because they're all so wrong and yet so right at the same time.

when he gets to his office he scrounges up a heavy ceramic vase that's somehow been tucked in storage for time immemorable. and as he puts the vase on a table near the window, chanyeol swears he can see a face refracting through the glass.

the view is lovely.

 

 

 

 

chanyeol opts to drive the day after, and his car is parked in its assigned spot way before the company even opens. from here he can observe the area where baekhyun was yesterday, and he tries to push away the thoughts clamoring in his head, telling him that baekhyun's probably in a different part of the city now. he's underdressed for work but overdressed for approaching someone like baekhyun, and chanyeol's too uncomfortable in his own skin. his nervousness leaks out of his pores and his hands shake, and there's anxiety stuttering its way out, and chanyeol doesn't quite know what do if baekhyun doesn't show up.

it's fifteen minutes past seven when a hoodie-swathed figure appears in the line of chanyeol's vision, and relief almost knocks him down entirely. he fiddles with the sleeves he's rolled up, trying to appear even more casual, and then he waits until baekhyun is done setting up. he has flower garlands this time, brightly-colored petals spilling out of the green plastic buckets, and he's brought along a little folding table where he spreads out the handmade jewelry. chanyeol counts six customers before he falls out of his car.

as he approaches baekhyun's makeshift stall, chanyeol tries to prepare himself for disappointment. obviously baekhyun's not going to remember him. but there's a tiny part of him that says _what if_ , and chanyeol doesn't dwell on it because it's damn near impossible, and he has no idea even of what he's about to do.

that's the thing. he's pulled and pulled and _pulled_ towards baekhyun like the smaller guy's a magnet and chanyeol's a piece of metal drifting away, and it's a law of attraction that's so elementary and yet so complex, and chanyeol knows there's just no running away. and maybe being drawn to him isn't such a bad thing, but if they don't collide chanyeol's heart will be ground to dust on the concrete.

he stops in front of baekhyun's table, taking the time to draw in a hesitant breath. baekhyun looks up at him with a smile on his face and chanyeol forgets what _inhale, exhale_ are, that his body needs air to circulate, that he has a heart trying to pump blood through his veins. it's his second day of seeing baekhyun and already he knows what his weakness is going to be, and chanyeol knows this is bad.

"we have -- " baekhyun stops his sales pitch and blinks, tilting his head a little. "you're...chanyeol, right?"

if hell decides to cave right under his feet, chanyeol doesn't mind. he's chasing 27 and his sun is in front of him, and there's still a bit of cloud cover in the way, but dying young seconds before the rain has always been a romantic thought.

"yeah," chanyeol says, and he thinks it's so hard to push out sounds from his throat. "yeah, i just wanted to stop by and see what you're selling today."

baekhyun narrows his eyes at him. "flowers for your special someone?"

"no, no," chanyeol says, flustered. "i'm not...i don't have anyone right now. at all." he meets baekhyun's gaze. "but my home needs something to give it a little life."

"at least you have a home," baekhyun murmurs. the words may have been imperceptible against a tide of traffic chaos, but now that they're said in the silence between the two of them, chanyeol doesn't have trouble hearing them. he eyes the worry that's lurking beneath baekhyun's skin and he wants to make it disappear.

baekhyun goes over and pulls up a bucket containing the largest garlands. chanyeol doesn't speak in flowers and he's never had any reason to, but right now he's curious about the pinks and the whites and the greens peeking out at him. "you can put any of these up on your walls, or you can give one to a friend," baekhyun says. "they're not your standard bouquets, though, so you can't just put them in a vase. they're not going to last long."

"i know," chanyeol says, palm hovering over the garlands. he stops at one that's bursting with red, and chanyeol feels it's an accurate enough representation of what he's feeling right now. "i'll take this one."

he doesn't know where to put this, and it feels so much like he's still looking for that spot where his missing piece belongs. but when baekhyun hands over his change and their fingers brush, chanyeol finds that he's maybe a tiny step closer.

right now this is more than enough.

 

 

 

 

stopping by baekhyun's stall and wringing out bits of information about the smaller guy become part of chanyeol's early morning routine. it reaches a point where his office is flooded with petals of different hues and shapes, and it's not uncommon for chanyeol to send out documents containing dried leaves. his staff do their best to keep things in order but chanyeol waves them away, and it's when he sees the flowers wilting that he tries to figure out if he's ever going to try being something more than a constant customer. though he's confident chanyeol isn't brave, and he may not openly admit it but it takes up a lot of his courage to even approach baekhyun in the first place.

it's funny because all his life chanyeol's always been in a rush -- the kind of rush where you jump in headfirst and turn off your thoughts, and there's that disconnect between what's safe and what's not. and it's a little reckless to let go of the wheel when you've reached a blind spot, but chanyeol finds it hard to adhere to standards.

this time he's savoring the moments he has with baekhyun, moments where he wonders if there are flickers of feelings in baekhyun's chest whenever they're together, moments where he wants to just be beside the other guy. he's dying to ask baekhyun if he's fallen in love with chanyeol the way that chanyeol likes to believe he's supposed to, but it's hard when the words tangle with vocal chords and the throat's called for an emergency shutdown.

in those brief seconds where he has baekhyun's attention, chanyeol knows there's a distance lingering in the tone of their interactions that is impossible to cross. when chanyeol looks out his office window there are 27 floors and 378 steps separating him from baekhyun. but the distance between talking hearts is more difficult to quantify, and it can either be a hundred miles or a million light-years, and right now it's just a vast space of nothingness where shared things are supposed to exist.

hope is a flame that you draw too close to, and chanyeol's burned each and every time.

 

 

 

 

chanyeol starts to lose count.

he sees baekhyun for 30 seconds each day and it's not enough, but when he goes home chanyeol drives down the opposite road. he's afraid to ask for more, to ask for things that technically aren't his, to ask for another minute of baekhyun's time. deep down he knows he can't keep this up -- if he doesn't want to get stuck he has to move on, and he either moves towards baekhyun or away from him.

today baekhyun's got his hands on white and red roses. chanyeol thinks of a language that's kept secret in every stem, but something's stopping him from making a confession. he's spent far less than the smallest fraction of his lifespan trying to get to know baekhyun, but already baekhyun's smile is ingrained in his mind and baekhyun's voice plays tunes in his thoughts when he can't sleep. he holds on to the shards of baekhyun that baekhyun sometimes drops, like the fact that he's got great humor and is optimistic even in the face of misfortune.

as chanyeol reaches out to touch the purity of the nearest white rose, baekhyun says, "you don't really need these, do you?"

"mmm, no," chanyeol says. after half a beat he realizes what he's let loose, but when he glances at baekhyun he only sees him nodding. to be honest this is one thing he's always failed to hide.

"then why? why are you here?"

and there is a glimmer in baekhyun's eyes that chanyeol can't define, and he knows this isn't the right time. he plucks out a white rose from the bucket and lays it across baekhyun's open palms. "because..." he hesitates, knowing he can't say the wrong thing. he remembers the day he'd met baekhyun, the way baekhyun's shoulders had curved with persistence and fatigue, the way that baekhyun had slid on a smile. "because you look like you need a friend, and i need one too."

baekhyun starts to fiddle with the white rose. "is this for me?"

chanyeol stares at the soft outline of baekhyun's face. baekhyun raises the rose and presses it against his chest, and chanyeol swallows down his nervousness.

"yes."

 

 

 

 

his clock screams **7:00 AM** when chanyeol opens his eyes. from there it's a panic-fueled disaster that has chanyeol forgetting to brew the coffee and chewing the coffee beans instead. he doesn't bring a towel to the bathroom and has to run back naked to his bedroom, and he's putting his feet through his longsleeves before he realizes what an idiot he is. there are alarm bells ringing in his head, and when chanyeol takes a turn down an unfamiliar street he knows this day is just _wrong_.

when he's parked, chanyeol gets out and manages to slam the door on his tie. he knows there is no time to stop now -- he has a meeting in a few minutes and he hasn't even gone over the preliminary reports, and chanyeol decides to come by baekhyun's stall after he's dealt with his responsibilities. but when he glances at the sidewalk chanyeol's feet stumble and his heart shrinks.

baekhyun is gone.

he has half a mind to start upturning street lamps in the mad thought that he might find baekhyun there, but he still has enough rationality left to recognize when he can't do anything. chanyeol keeps walking, keeps living, and somehow everything is normal and fine and ordinary.

no one notices the tears forming in his eyes.

 

 

 

 

the flowers die in the middle of the week. one by one they lose their will to keep blooming, and whenever chanyeol sees the fingers of death creeping down the petals he just closes his eyes. it's so easy to lose color, to bleach monochromatic hues onto a paint-by-number world, and chanyeol is reminded of this when he sees brown seeping into his life every day.

he buries himself in contracts and meetings like he always does when the cacophony of his feelings becomes too much to bear. he starts migrating to conference rooms where the scent of loss doesn't quite reach, and when his secretary quietly opens all the windows in his office and takes away the remaining plants, chanyeol breathes in sadness and locks it in an unknown corner of his heart.

it's his fault.

he hadn't made a single step in the right direction. he'd simply been content with staying where he was, thinking that baekhyun would be there forever. and maybe this isn't the reason why baekhyun's not there on that goddamned street corner with his wares, but chanyeol knows it's the root of the regret that's rushing through his veins.

he's always been able to pick himself up. he's always fumbled his way through dim lights and rough patches, meticulously laying out a pattern of bits and pieces that beat for a person he once loved. this time it's different.

somehow he thinks baekhyun had been his last chance. and now that he's gone chanyeol is the picture of professionalism, but inside his chest there are flames that sputter out and are too close to dying.

how do you resuscitate a heart that's stopped beating one too many times?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

on a saturday a week after he's last seen baekhyun, chanyeol is pushed out into the streets. jongdae sticks out his tongue at him before screaming "explore!" at chanyeol, and then chanyeol's left to watch his cousin coax his car into submission.

he's lost in a sea of humanity looking for a way out, for a vessel to float into, and chanyeol wonders where he's supposed to go. _explore,_ jongdae chants in his head. _explore explore explore_. chanyeol can stand there but he'll be blocking the way, so he follows the flow of people heading north.

city streets are better experienced when you're walking under scorched skies. in the embrace of humidity chanyeol sees buildings from another perspective, and when they're towering above him he thinks that they're skyscrapers in their own little way. he sees cars flashing past in bursts of speed that are meant to show off, and he sees children cradling children the way that survival forces them to. it's a different kind of life when you're on the ground and you're not sheltered from the hectic streets, and in the crush of people chanyeol learns that things come and go as the please.

he spots a little girl staring at a display of carved wooden figurines, the look on her face so wistful and melancholic. it tugs on chanyeol's heart like there's a string linking the both of them, and he walks towards the girl. the moment he's near she glances up and takes a reflexive step back, years of struggle on the street spilling out of her eyes as she braces herself for what this man wants.

chanyeol smiles, hoping it'll somehow soften the girl's defensive stance, and he crouches down. "they're pretty, aren't they?" he tilts his head in the direction of the figurines.

the girl doesn't risk a moment of weakness. she holds his gaze and there's something still so innocent about a child who's left to fend for herself, and chanyeol sees it in the way she rocks herself back and forth on her feet, and her hands are gripping the hem of her shirt with a tightness that hints of anxiety.

"do you want one?" he tries, and he sees how her eyes spark and die down in the same breath. chanyeol doesn't need an answer. he stands back up and clears his throat, not looking at the seller as he scans the figurines. "excuse me, how much is this?"

"ah, the small ones go for --" there's a pause that lies liquid in the air, and the voice is so familiar that chanyeol's head snaps back up. in a moment his vision is filled with warm brown eyes and that pretty smile, and chanyeol doesn't know how sounds are processed so they can march in the air, and it feels like he's looking at an old, faded photograph. 

with a shakiness he doesn't quite remember, chanyeol buys three dolls and gives them to the girl. when she clutches them to her heart chanyeol is filled with peace, and her quiet _thank you_ rings with a sincerity that chases away his sudden panic at seeing baekhyun here. she runs away into the thick of the crowd, long black hair dancing behind her and slippers slapping the pavement, and chanyeol stares a few more seconds before returning his attention to baekhyun.

"chanyeol," baekhyun says, a soft smile still playing on his lips. 

chanyeol tries to keep his own expression open and friendly. "i was wondering where you went. one day you were there, the next day you weren't."

baekhyun blushes and the image is lovely, the faintest shade of red trailing down to stain his cheeks. "the police caught me. they were kind enough to let me pack up properly, but i couldn't stay there. i'm trying my luck here."

"ah, shame." chanyeol scans the items laid out neatly on the table, and it strikes him right away. "what happened to the flowers?"

"i can't sell them here," baekhyun says. "i tried for a couple of days but people prefer toys and whatnot, so i stuck with them instead." his fingers stroke a lion baring his teeth at the stream of changing faces walking past. "i'm sorry," he adds, though the word itself is hesitant. "i know you liked the flowers --"

"it's okay," chanyeol reassures him. "i like figurines too." and chanyeol has a house that's filled from top to bottom with only the bare necessities, and when he opens the door it's cold and impersonal, and these wooden figurines can help bring back a bit of life and light. 

baekhyun frowns. "you don't have to do that," he says.

"i don't have to do what?"

pretty fingers wave over the display. "if you still want to be friends with me like you said on that day i was selling roses," baekhyun says, "then we can be friends even if you don't buy anything."

chanyeol doesn't want to be _friends_ , not in the strictest sense. but there's something in baekhyun's expression that tells him it's the best he can expect for now, so he delays the dam breaking under the flood of his feelings. 

"how?" he whispers.

baekhyun slips him a rolled-up piece of paper. "meet me next saturday at eight."

 

 

light comes rushing back into chanyeol's office. for the first time he notices that the paneling is blue, the curtains are green, the couches are white -- that he lives smack-dab in the middle of where colors converge, and he's not surrounded by an ocean of grays and browns.

his secretary places a vase containing a single white rose on his desk. 

 

 

baekhyun is waiting for him at the stairs leading up to the library. his clock ticks to 7:55 and chanyeol leans against a tree, watching the smaller guy wrap himself in his own arms. unguarded, baekhyun is the portrait of a child, blowing out his cheeks and singing tiny melodies to keep himself amused. when the wind caresses him baekhyun pouts, and if chanyeol can see baekhyun like this every day he'll be content.

it's a minute past eight when chanyeol emerges from his hiding place. baekhyun jumps up at once when he sees chanyeol, and he's buzzing with energy once chanyeol is beside him. "you made it!" he says happily.

"of course," chanyeol says. _i'll always make it_ is what he doesn't say. "what are we going to do today?"

baekhyun's hand wraps around chanyeol's wrist, and chanyeol's heart gasps out a steady _lub-dub_ before it starts beating like crazy. he looks down at baekhyun's face, and the other guy is aglow with happiness. 

"we're going to read to children today!" baekhyun exclaims, and he's pulling chanyeol forward. chanyeol doesn't resist -- at this point he's just letting things happen the way they're meant to happen, because he's learned long ago that there are certain events you just can't interfere with. and baekhyun's hand feels soft against his skin, and chanyeol swears that their pulses are racing ahead at the same rate.

they're hit by the overwhelming smell of ink on paper, and chanyeol thinks that there is more than an acceptable amount of dust mixed in. baekhyun lets go of his wrist and once again chanyeol feels empty, like there's the ghost of a touch lingering where it's not supposed to, and chanyeol pushes his hands into his pockets. 

baekhyun talks to the librarian in hushed murmurs before looking back at chanyeol, lips forming _follow me_. and chanyeol is helpless -- he doesn't know if baekhyun's simply never noticed, but chanyeol has been following him ever since they've met. maybe there is an end to this world, and if baekhyun goes there chanyeol will still follow, and it's a dedication that scares him out of his wits. 

they enter a room where a dozen or so kids are sitting cross-legged on the red carpet. "hello," baekhyun says, and with that one word the kids' faces light up. they obviously like baekhyun, their admiration for him so palpable in this room. baekhyun introduces chanyeol and chanyeol falters a little, but the kids laugh and he soon eases into the session like he's always been a part of it.

"today we'll read a story about a mermaid who wants to be human," baekhyun says, occupying the only chair available. chanyeol sits at the very back beside what seems to be a seven-year-old boy who peeks at him from time to time. when baekhyun starts speaking the syllables are like musical notes threading through the air, and it captivates chanyeol but the child near him is restless. when the child's eyelashes flicker down, chanyeol swallows down his rising laughter. he wraps his hands around the child's waist and the child's mouth falls open in surprise, but before he can kick up a fuss he's sitting on chanyeol's lap.

"what's your name?" chanyeol whispers into the child's ear. in the background he can hear baekhyun imitating the prince of the story.

the child turns pink. "minseok," he says, voice soft and almost inaudible. "my name is minseok."

"do i scare you?" chanyeol runs his hands through minseok's hair. from his peripheral vision he sees baekhyun glancing at them.

"no," minseok says decisively. "no, you don't scare me."

there is a child snug in his arms and there is baekhyun telling a story in front, and chanyeol lets himself pretend that this is his family, and this is where love's been waiting for him all along.

 

 

"he doesn't speak much."

chanyeol raises his eyebrows. "who doesn't speak much?" he asks. the stop light glows green and waves of people come crashing past each other on the pedestrian walk. baekhyun clutches a handful of chanyeol's shirt like it's his lifeline, and maybe it is because in these crowds it's hard to stay on course.

"minseok," baekhyun says when they're on the other side of the road. "he usually keeps to himself. most of the kids are pretty optimistic and friendly, but he's always been one of the quiet ones."

"i've been wondering about that. what are those kids --"

"do you want to get ice cream?" baekhyun interrupts, pointing at a cart that's just a few feet away. "it's really hot out."

chanyeol isn't in any position to say what _hot_ is. he's never been bothered by temperatures rising and falling at any given moment, and it's like his body is a broken thermometer absorbing heat and not much else. "do you want to?"

"yes," baekhyun says, and that alone is enough for chanyeol to go along with the smaller guy. baekhyun gets strawberry and chanyeol settles for pistachio, and they head on over to the park. 

"chanyeol, look!"

hanging from a tree's branches is a cluster of swings, ones that are made of rubber and cradle you perfectly when you bounce in them before pushing yourself off of the ground. he and baekhyun exchange looks and then they're racing towards it, laughter whipped away by the wind. 

it's been a long time since chanyeol's last done anything this fun. the rubber swing carries his weight, tilting a little when chanyeol tests it out with a slight bounce. he tugs on the rope handles and they don't fray, and when he's encased in the skies he hopes he doesn't fall back down too hard. 

baekhyun finishes his ice cream cone and he's soaring, up up _up_ until he's on the fringes of a cloud, and then he's pulled to the earth like it doesn't want to let him go. minutes parade past where chanyeol and baekhyun simply keep trying to somehow touch the fabric of the stars, their happiness tucked into tiny pockets of air. when they settle back down to the ground they're out of breath, smiles escaping them too freely, and chanyeol holds on to this feeling while it lasts.

"they don't have little things like this, you know," baekhyun says when they've gasped out the remaining bits of their euphoria. wisps of wistfulness cling to his lips.

chanyeol leans his head against the rope handle. he closes his eyes and listens to baekhyun's words washing over him like gentle tides sweeping up the shore.

"all of them come from broken homes. maybe their father or their mother left them, maybe their parents died, maybe they've been so neglected that the streets seem kinder in comparison. they're brought to the library so they can read, and you can see how they look forward to it a lot. they don't have to worry about anything, they don't have to think too much, and they're always happy to meet people willing to spend time with them." baekhyun reaches over and taps the back of chanyeol's hand. "they just need love and patience, nothing more, nothing less."

"minseok..."

"minseok's parents died in an accident. none of his relatives came forward to claim him, so he's been jumping from one foster family to another. he's a good boy, he's obedient and quiet and he does what you tell him to do." baekhyun bites his lip. "it's just that he can never truly fit in, especially since foster families are really big to start with."

"they deserve better than this," chanyeol murmurs. he thinks of minseok's wide eyes, of the kids listening to stories because fiction is a better thing to drown in, and he knows that people keep running because they're hoping that they'll end up somewhere safe.

he wants to do something. it's a desire that ignites his heart, quick and blazing, and chanyeol gets this sudden urge to _move_. he looks at baekhyun and realizes that this is why baekhyun's brought him here -- it's a sliver of baekhyun's world, a quick peek at what baekhyun does, and he wants chanyeol to share this with him. 

"yes, they do."

 

 

they part just before a light drizzle descends, and chanyeol walks home without raising an umbrella over his head. he remembers baekhyun's soft _bye_ and the paper that's now tucked into his pocket, and he thinks of all the things he can do but he's never done, and chanyeol thinks that time is a slippery thing. it slides out of his grasp when he needs it to stay still, and he's forever trying to get a grip on it.

sometimes people lose homes even when they're right inside it, and chanyeol thinks he can identify with that feeling. he looks at the bare walls and the shelves groaning with books that he never reads, and chanyeol knows this has only ever been a place to sleep in when the nights are too cold. if he tries hard enough he can recall a house of sunlight, one where watercolor paintings are displayed on the wall and memorabilia fill the empty spaces. he remembers lilting songs and unrestrained laughter, and the sounds ring loud and clear in his memories.

when he opens his eyes it's a sad jerk back to reality, where everything around him is sterile and lifeless and uniform, and it's the absence of insanity that nags at chanyeol. deep down he knows he's not the suit-wearing statue of seriousness that's aired on national tv. he's just chanyeol -- the boy who kept spiders in matchboxes and left them on teacher's desks, the boy who never colored objects within the lines.

he wonders when he'd started to cover up that part of himself.

chanyeol unfolds the piece of paper that baekhyun had given him. messy hangul characters jump out at him and chanyeol smiles to himself as he reads it. it's just _so baekhyun_ , and he thinks he falls a little more in love. 

and maybe he's too schooled in the art of pretenses, maybe it's still hard to let himself go, but baekhyun's been tugging him out of his shell and chanyeol doesn't want to resist. he's been imprisoned in a box of expectations for so long, and he wants out.

today he's punched a hole through that box.

 

 

"do you know how to cook?" baekhyun shouts at him from halfway across the street. it's five a.m. on a friday and chanyeol's left his responsibilities with his vice-president, and the dawn chill burrows into his spine in a way that ices up his veins. in the brightening skies baekhyun is a photograph in soft focus, and chanyeol doesn't really need to rotate the lens some more.

"kind of," chanyeol shouts back at him. "why?" he asks, volume back to normal once baekhyun has reached him.

"because that's what we'll be doing today," baekhyun says with a gleam in his eyes, and soon he's running down the sidewalk. after a heartbeat chanyeol follows, and they're quite a sight -- it's not clear who is chasing who, if they're chasing anything at all, or if they're just racing along for the heck of it. and in the sunrise it doesn't matter, their feet pounding on concrete and gravel and asphalt, and soon baekhyun is pushing open a door and chanyeol's crashing in right behind him.

they clutch the wall for a while, letting their panting breaths accompany the warmth of the room. when chanyeol bothers to look up, he realizes that they're in a huge kitchen filled with people who are now staring at them. he wipes his hands on his pants and straightens up, embarrassed, and he's used to press conferences but these stares unnerve him.

"are we late?" baekhyun asks. chanyeol doesn't know why baekhyun's still full-on grinning after that much physical exertion, but he's come to learn that baekhyun never reacts the way you expect him to.

a man who's maybe a centimeter shorter than baekhyun approaches them, his eyes wide. "no, you're just in time. why do you look so exhausted?" worry emerges from his irises and he frowns.

"we ran here," baekhyun explains. he tugs chanyeol forward and chanyeol's mind is devoid of words. "this is chanyeol. chanyeol, this is kyungsoo."

kyungsoo beams up at him. "nice to meet you, chanyeol. thanks for volunteering to help us out."

chanyeol blanks out and he doesn't understand what he's volunteered for, but a nudge from baekhyun tells him this is not the time and place to ask questions. instead he says, "it's nothing. i'm glad to help."

when kyungsoo turns his back and everyone else has returned to doing whatever they'd been doing, chanyeol takes baekhyun aside. "what is this?"

"it's a soup kitchen," baekhyun whispers back. "we're going to cook food and give them to the poor for free." he grabs an apron from a stack near them and slips it over chanyeol's head. "hopefully you don't set anything on fire!"

chanyeol doesn't. he cuts vegetables and fries fish and follows kyungsoo's recipes to the letter, and it's gratifying when he doesn't mess up once. across the room baekhyun is in constant motion, helping to set up the venue. chanyeol watches him from time to time, watches baekhyun's pretty hands snap open tablecloths, watches baekhyun chatter his entire life away. and if being baekhyun's friend means he'll get to go on these excursions, chanyeol can be okay with that. it's not quite what he wants, it's not what he's hoping for, but this relationship is as fragile as a spider's web and he doesn't want to brush it away.

once they've prepared everything and brought the food out to the venue, everyone is assigned to stations. chanyeol feels a tap on his shoulder and finds baekhyun standing beside him, ladle in hand.

"ready?" baekhyun asks. whenever chanyeol looks at him he sees new things to love, and right now he's spotted another mole.

"ready," he breathes.

then the people rush in and several lines form, and chanyeol is bone-weary and sleepy-eyed. but when a river of _thank you_ s flow by from people crushed by life's disappointments, chanyeol forgets all that. he forgets the documents he hasn't read and the reports he hasn't double-checked, and at this moment he has baekhyun beside him and they're feeding the poor. he's surrounded by people with hearts overflowing enough to give back, and chanyeol can't quite believe he's a part of this.

it makes him feel a little less helpless and a little more optimistic about what tomorrow may bring.

 

 

they're slumped over on a cafe table, spines bent and muscles sore, and it seems as though they've been lugging around bagfuls of lead. but chanyeol is content with his head near baekhyun's, and he can hear baekhyun's breathing, and he thinks there are not many perfect moments but this is one of them. they're two souls pulsating in a roadside cafe, maybe halfway consumed by exhaustion but they're not giving up, and in this single sphere it feels like they've given away a part of themselves.

"chanyeol?" baekhyun murmurs, his voice even huskier than usual. "let's play a game."

"what game?" chanyeol asks, stifling a yawn. he's face-down and the surface of the table is hard, and there are bits of his body that ache when he so much as twitches.

"i say a word, you say what comes to mind first," baekhyun says. he nudges chanyeol and with a groan chanyeol props himself up. baekhyun's resting his chin on top of his folded hands and chanyeol copies his position, so now they're seeing eye to eye and chanyeol can't escape the light that's shining within baekhyun's eyes. "color."

"black," chanyeol says, thinking of his somber wardrobe. "gift."

"letters. pastime."

"playing the guitar. mornings."

"they're lovely. night?"

"melancholic."

"i think they're beautiful."

"well, i'm the one answering and i say it's melancholic," chanyeol huffs.

baekhyun laughs and leans back against his chair. "sorry, guess i got carried away."

"it's okay," chanyeol says, amused. "the food's here anyway." he lifts the upper half of his body from where it's draped on the table's surface and he leans back. the waitress slides dishes of food in front of them, and when she's gone they attack their orders right away.

somewhere in between demolished plates of kimchi they segue into a rhythm and start talking over the chatter rising from the other tables. "tell me more about yourself," chanyeol says. 

"like what?" baekhyun asks, tilting his head.

"like...what's something you want to do, that if you're given a chance you'd do it forever?"

baekhyun pauses in his attempt to shovel down as much food as he can. "singing," he says, his voice acquiring an ethereal tone that speaks of far away dreams. "i want to sing."

in the space of a few weeks they've gone through a lot of things, but it's moments like this when baekhyun is so distant that chanyeol is reminded of how he doesn't really know baekhyun. he's only privy to the things that baekhyun wants to share, in the same way that there are plenty of things he's hidden from baekhyun. he wondes what it must be like if they'd spent a lifetime at each other's side, but then he thinks that no matter how long you've been with a person, if they choose to lock away parts of themselves you can't do anything about it. 

he's overcome by this sudden desire to know baekhyun as much as he can. he wants baekhyun to trust him enough to tell him the minute details, information that may not seem significant at first: favorite color, song, book, movie -- favorite everything. and chanyeol wants to share his favorites too, wants to know where their interests overlap and what else they share in common.

so as they set out for home at a leisurely pace -- and chanyeol still doesn't know where baekhyun lives, where he goes to when the skies deepen to an inky blue-black ( so much, so much, so much he doesn't know still) -- chanyeol turns over questions in his head. "will you let me listen to you sing?" he asks as they wait for the stop light to change.

baekhyun is quiet, and chanyeol's just about to repeat the question when he speaks up. "maybe," he says, glancing up at chanyeol. "not today, though."

when they part ways and baekhyun's back is gone from his sight, chanyeol rewinds baekhun's _maybe_ in his head. like anything else between them it's tentative, but it's not an outright _no_ and that's what chanyeol is grateful for.

he thinks they're both bringing down their walls, brick by stubborn brick.

 

 

on chanyeol's bedside table there rests a music box. it's solid and antique and cloaked in mystery, and it's been years since chanyeol's played it. he comes home on a wednesday evening and instead of heading for the kitchen he pads over to his bedroom, and he leaves his tie and socks and shoes in a messy pile by the door. then he goes over to sit on the edge of his bed, and he reaches out to play the music box.

all at once the room is filled with a haunting melody that still chills chanyeol to the bone, and he remembers how it used to be locked away in one of his mother's cabinets for "things that are pretty to look at". his father used to take it out for him because at the time chanyeol was no more than four feet and he'd wanted the music box so bad. he never returned it to the cabinet, bringing it along with him throughout the rest of his life, and when he'd finally gotten a house of his own the music box was the first thing he'd put down.

he calls his mother on sundays and listens to her stories about what she's done for the week, and sometimes his father obliges him with a grunt or two. a decade now and he's still not used to not having them around, and whenever he's free chanyeol tries to visit them. he meets up with his sister for dinner when she's in seoul and not off to some random continent, and chanyeol thinks back to the days when they used to be separated by just a couple of doors.

he lets the music box play its tune one last time before he closes it, and for a long moment he just sits there staring at his feet. already it's october and his 28th birthday is approaching fast, and maybe that's the reason why he's inclined to sift through memories today.

time moves too fast and his body moves too slow, and he's always steps away from the things he wants the most.

 

 

chanyeol waits for baekhyun on a late tuesday afternoon when the skies have begun to shift hues, and he wraps his hands tighter around his bicycle's handles. today they're not participating in another charity event (which chanyeol regrets a bit because he'd been hoping they'd visit a day care next) -- after their soup kitchen stint baekhyun and he had exchanged numbers, and baekhyun had told him that they'd be going somewhere.

he hasn't biked for a long time now. earlier he'd tried it out and he could still coast down miles and miles of asphalt without falling down, and cycling is something he's missed so much. round and round the wheels go, and the wind's staying with him even as the miles tumble away, and chanyeol doesn't know where they're headed tonight but he's looking forward to cycling again.

"chanyeol!"

baekhyun's on his bike and he's headed straight for him, and chanyeol only just manages to sidestep a potential crash. baekhyun grins unapologetically, eyes quick and eager in the rays of the setting sun, and chanyeol has to bite back a smile. 

"have you been waiting long?" baekhyun asks him, coming to a stop beside chanyeol.

"i don't know, do you think half an hour's long enough?"

baekhyun blinks. "but my watch said --"

chanyeol laughs as he gets on his bike, feet settling on the pedals. "i was ahead of you by five minutes," he says, and chuckles when baekhyun swats his arm in exasperation. "where to?"

"just follow me," baekhyun says, and then he's cycling away. and it feels all too familiar, this routine -- chanyeol following baekhyun, and both of them hurtling towards the unknown. it should bother chanyeol but he's come to understand, after nights of endless thinking, that there is a reason behind what baekhyun shows him. it's more than just being generous and helpful and kind; it's about baekhyun himself, buried in those places they've gone to and things they've done, and if chanyeol pieces it all together he can finally start forming a picture of who baekhyun really is. it's an unconventional way of being friends -- of sharing experiences and moments and even the thorns of the past, all in the subtlest way possible.

they end up in an unfamiliar part of the town where houses line a cobblestone road, and old-fashioned street lamps are the only ones left to fight off the approaching darkness. baekhyun gets off his bike and leans it against a lamppost, and chanyeol follows suit.

they stand there in the middle of the road, neither one saying anything, and chanyeol wonders why this place is significant. he chances a look at baekhyun and his breath catches because baekhyun's standing so still, his arms wrapped around himself, and his eyes are closed as he turns his face up to the sky. the half moon wreaths him in a glow that's only ever been angelic, and chanyeol can drink in this image forever and never get tired of it at all.

"do you remember the things i sell? the flowers and the figurines and the jewelry?" baekhyun asks, his eyes fluttering open. he shivers a little and chanyeol just wants to hold him close, just wants to stop the way his feelings get stuck in his throat and never make it past his lips. but he clutches the hem of his shirt and worries it instead.

"of course," he says. "of course i remember." 

there are so many things he remembers as well: the way baekhyun excels at voice imitations, the way expressions play on his face, the way he sometimes bites his lower lip when he's nervous. he's reminded of baekhyun's pretty smile on that first day they'd met, of baekhyun's insistence to buy sticky sweet ice cream, of the pensive gaze that fogs up the clarity of baekhyun's eyes when he thinks chanyeol isn't looking.

"this is where i get them," baekhyun says, waving a hand in the direction of the houses. "this street is where artisans reside. some carve wood, some grow flowers, some spend their days building ships in bottles. i know we can't meet any of them tonight, but i just wanted to show this place to you." he breathes in deeply, and chanyeol thinks he can almost see the way oxygen settles into baekhyun's lungs.

"you love this place, don't you?" it's not a question and it's never meant to be one, and baekhyun only smiles.

"let's go somewhere else," he says. 

it's nine in the evening and they're immeasurable miles away from home, but right now chanyeol's comfortable and he's really in no hurry to return to an empty house. deep down there's something building, like notes rising to a thundering crescendo, and his heart missteps before following along. the night is young and it's nowhere near the end, and there's a certain kind of thrill that seeps into chanyeol's chest as they ascend a steep incline. 

baekhyun reaches the top well before he does, and as chanyeol props up his bike against a tree trunk baekhyun is already lying down on the grass. right then chanyeol aches for so many things, his heart wishing and wishing and wishing, and he still sets an alarm for 11:11 in the morning and 11:11 at night. he occupies the spot beside baekhyun and hums a forgotten tune, gliding through notes that feel familiar and strange at the same time. he's so lost in his thoughts, trying to pinpoint the source of the tune, that he nearly misses the voice flowing out of the boy who's lying beside him.

it's with a jolt that chanyeol realizes baekhyun is singing. the latter's eyes are unfocused, staring straight up without settling on a single object, and a song just keeps rolling off of his tongue. chanyeol staggers his breathing, ears pricked as baekhyun's voice soars -- and it's beautiful, baekhyun's voice is just so beautiful, and baekhyun himself is _beautiful_.

"thank you," chanyeol whispers when the song ends. baekhyun doesn't meet his gaze as he lifts himself back up to sitting position, and he pulls out handfuls of grass that he lets float back down to the ground. "you should sing more."

"i can't do that," baekhyun says, his tone sad. he rests his hand on a wildflower pushing its way out of the earth and caresses its petals gently. "it's...i love singing, but it's something i want to keep for myself."

"you sang just a few minutes ago..." chanyeol says, trailing off. he's not quite sure where he's going with this.

"i don't know why either," baekhyun says. his voice is soft and his eyes glisten with moonshine, and chanyeol's caught up in him once again. "it's just so easy to share things with you, to be with you all the time." at his last words baekhyun looks troubled, and chanyeol's heart beats maybe point two seconds faster. 

baekhyun stands up, brushing off dirt from his pants. when he speaks his voice is different -- it's neutral and unaffected and plain, and it doesn't hold a single drop of baekhyun at all. 

"let's go home."

 

 

three-fourths of the way through, lightning cracks the skies apart and sheets of rain hurtle down. they attempt to push through it but it just rains harder, and soon they're both pedaling towards the nearest thing with a roof while trying not to slip. when a shed looms in the distance they abandon their bikes on the sidewalk and then they're rushing into the relative safety of a roof over their heads, both a tad bit breathless.

baekhyun sits down and buries his head in his knees, water streaming down his arms and neck. he looks so small, so powerless, and chanyeol goes to sit beside him. he wraps a hand around baekhyun's shoulders and he gathers him close. for a beat baekhyun is just stiff, but he turns so suddenly to press his face against chanyeol's chest, and chanyeol is so surprised that at first he doesn't register the fact that baekhyun's crying.

"baekhyun," he says, resting his hand uncertainly on the small of baekhyun's back. his heart thumps because this is the closest he's ever been to baekhyun, and they're both cold and shivering and soaked skin deep, and he swears he can feel static crackling wherever skin meets skin. "baekhyun, what's the matter?"

all that answers him is a broken sob, and chanyeol's heart cracks a bit more. he doesn't know what to do, and he resorts to murmuring _it's okay, it's okay_ over and over and over again. he's never seen baekhyun like this and it hits him, right then and there, how baekhyun's so good at hiding his pain.

baekhyun sniffles and looks up at him, and everything crashes into chanyeol. he's been launched by a rocket and collapsed in a black hole, and the tears that streak baekhyun's face make him protective. "why?" is all baekhyun asks, his voice unsteady, and chanyeol doesn't know anything at all.

he uses his thumb to wipe away the traces of baekhyun's tears, and he can feel baekhyun's lost gaze pooling in his heart. it's so easy right now, to just pull him in and kiss him, to see if baekhyun's lips are as soft as they look -- and before he knows it there's nearly no space between them and baekhyun's eyes have widened, and for an instant they're just frozen.

then baekhyun breaks out of chanyeol's grasp and chanyeol lets him, _stupid stupid stupid_ echoing in his head. baekhyun looks at him with a mixture of emotions that's hard to pick apart, and chanyeol braces himself. but he doesn't want to suppress it, not anymore, he doesn't want to keep silent the way he has for the past few weeks.

"you said you only needed a friend," baekhyun says, eyes still wide and fingers over lips that chanyeol hasn't quite touched. 

"i did." chanyeol stands up as well. the rain's still beating down on the roof and he's going to get sick, but right now he just wants to say this, to admit it once and for all. "but now i want something more."

"a friend," baekhyun repeats, his lower lip quivering. chanyeol reaches out to him but he flinches away.

chanyeol's shoulders sag. "how do i begin to tell you that i loved you since the day we first met?" he says out loud, and it's like he's finally letting the poison out of his system. "i bought flowers because i wanted to see you, and i asked you questions because i wanted to get to know you more. when you disappeared i was shattered, but when i found you again i felt whole and complete.

"and it's crazy, it's strange, it's unexpected. but baekhyun, i see your smile when i close my eyes. you're there on every street corner, you exist in my office and in my room, and every day i spend with you i find new things to love. i hear you even in my dreams, i've practically memorized the sound of your laughter. i've told myself to keep it in because you only wanted friendship, but dammit baekhyun, it's hard to keep everything in!"

baekhyun is three steps away, but right now it feels like the pacific ocean is between them. tears are welling up in baekhyun's eyes and chanyeol's heart sinks, but tonight his rib cage will be empty and there'll be nothing left of his heart. this time he's given too much of himself away.

"chanyeol," baekhyun says, his tone edging towards desperation and uncertainty, and it kills chanyeol when baekhyun's tears start falling again and he can feel it, he can see both of them teetering on the tip of a knife, and he tries to prepare himself for baekhyun's next words.

he isn't prepared enough.

"chanyeol, i already belong to someone else," baekhyun says. and chanyeol's expected rejection but not this, never this, and his knees hit the ground before he even registers baekhyun stepping back out into the rain. he's a drowning man and baekhyun's on the other side of the veil, his tears mingling with the droplets, and then he's on his bike and he's cycling right through the storm.

 _i already belong to someone else,_ the wind taunts him. _i already belong to someone else._

 

 

he signs papers day in, day out. meetings are held. chanyeol smiles at the cameras and delivers speeches during press conferences, and he's the portrait of an exemplary businessman, and there's never any sign that he's long been dying.

it's a peculiar feeling, having a hole in your chest. chanyeol remembers just missing a piece but now the entire thing's gone, and what's the point of having a rib cage when there is nothing to protect? what hurts the most is that baekhyun still lingers in the corners of his life -- he's never thought that people may have seen them together, and it hits him hard when luhan gives him a newspaper clipping of the soup kitchen he and baekhyun had volunteered in. the ink leaves faint imprints on the pads of his fingers, and chanyeol can barely breathe as he looks at the way his and baekhyun's gazes lock while they're laughing over something. his name is prominently featured, of course.

"who is he, chanyeol?" luhan asks, brown eyes steady and calm. they're sitting beside each other, knees knocking, and chanyeol is reminded of nights when they'd drape themselves over each other and drain their beer bottles. the past couple of years have seen both of them get busier and busier, but they never really lose touch, and they always manage to pick up from where they've left off.

right now chanyeol just needs someone who'll listen. he doesn't need comfort, not really, and he doesn't need pep talks. he just wants someone to talk to, so he can pour the vitriol out into another container. 

"his name is byun baekhyun," chanyeol begins, and just like that he can't stop talking. he loses track of his own words and luhan just nods beside him, and somehow luhan's arms end up around him. he keeps talking, keeps remembering, keeps sharing until all the lights have died down and they're bathed in darkness, and then chanyeol's hoarse voice fades away.

"you need to talk to him again," luhan says, dissolving the silence between them.

chanyeol extricates himself from luhan's embrace. "i can't, luhan, i already told you what he said. i don't want to break up a relationship --"

"just talk to him," luhan says. he reaches over and pats chanyeol's cheek twice. "talk to him one last time. there are questions you haven't asked yet."

when luhan leaves chanyeol is somber, his tear ducts dry and his throat sore. luhan waves at him before driving away, and chanyeol thinks of talking to baekhyun, and then he shakes away the thought. baekhyun hasn't contacted him since that night and chanyeol knows he should stay away.

he should stay away, because if he comes too close to baekhyun he knows there will be nothing left of him.

 

 

nothing goes as planned.

it's a thursday night and chanyeol's dressed down to the simplest clothes he can find, cap shading his face from prying eyes. there's a new movie he wants to watch, and maybe it's stupid that he's standing in front of a cinema when he can watch it at home, but chanyeol misses theater seats and cheap butter popcorn and long lines.

he's tucking his change away when his ticket flutters down, but before he can so much as bend someone is already picking it up for him. "here you go," the person says -- and there is frost covering chanyeol's body and goosebumps on his skin. he looks up and sees baekhyun's shy smile, and when baekhyun recognizes him his smile slides off. 

"chanyeol," he breathes out in disbelief.

"baekhyun?" a deep voice calls, and chanyeol looks behind baekhyun to see a tall man striding towards them. he's quite possibly taller than chanyeol and he's handsome, his words coated with an alien accent, and chanyeol forgets to inhale when baekhyun moves to stand beside the man.

seeing them together, chanyeol wants to bury himself six feet beneath the ground. he wants to destroy his memories and just forget baekhyun, he wants the pain to stop, he wants to hide from the rest of the world. because this is the _someone else_ that baekhyun belongs to, and all at once chanyeol feels insecure and small and inferior. 

"is this your friend?" the man asks, frowning at chanyeol. his eyebrows are severe and he gives off a no-nonsense air, and chanyeol just doesn't want to be reminded of his own inadequacy. 

"yes," baekhyun says, and his voice is a little shaky. "his name is chanyeol."

"ah, so you're chanyeol," the man says, and chanyeol can't tell if there's a threat hidden in that simple sentence. "i'm kris."

"nice to meet you, kris," chanyeol says. his throat is dry and the stars have long since burned out. he wants to go home. "um, i should --"

"i need to talk to you," baekhyun blurts out and then he recoils, his gaze dropping to his feet. kris raises an eyebrow at the outburst. for the first time, chanyeol feels fear -- and he and baekhyun haven't done anything, but he knows he's in love with another man's lover, and the guilt eats at him from the inside out.

"i guess you haven't seen each other for a while," kris says, seeming to shrug it off. "i need to go to the washroom, anyway." he excuses himself, and there's a pause where chanyeol and baekhyun avoid each other's gazes. then baekhyun's hand is on his wrist and he's pulling him away, and it's everything that chanyeol wants and needs and _hates_ right now. soon they're in a corner tucked away from everyone's sight, and after days of not seeing baekhyun, chanyeol has the urge to relearn baekhyun's face.

"i'm sorry," baekhyun says, still not meeting chanyeol's eyes.

"it's not your fault," chanyeol says, the response almost automatic by now. what good will one last talk do to them? chanyeol knows their relationship -- whatever it is -- is past salvation now. he just wants to move on, to somehow dull the suffering in order to keep functioning.

baekhyun shakes his head. "you don't understand," he says, sounding like he's on the verge of breaking, and chanyeol's not any better. but he doesn't hold baekhyun close, doesn't touch him at all. "you don't understand, chanyeol."

"what don't i understand?" chanyeol hisses, frustration bubbling up. "i think it's clear that you don't return my feelings, that you're not interested, and that i fell in love with someone who's already made a commitment. what else do i need to remind me of how much of an idiot i am?"

baekhyun purses his lips the way he always does when he's pushing back the tears, and chanyeol thinks it's messed up because he even knows the meaning behind every little action baekhyun does. "it's not that, chanyeol! i don't know how to explain it, i can't put it in the proper words, and i don't know how to make you understand."

"then what is it, baekhyun? what do you want to talk to me about?" chanyeol can hear the anger in his tone, can feel it ripple in the air between them, but he knows he's not mad at baekhyun. he's mad at himself. right now he's shaking and his hands are fisted, and he's trying so so hard to retain his composure.

baekhyun opens his mouth then closes it. he shakes his head. and chanyeol knows there is nothing to expect, nothing more he can get, nothing to be said that will assuage the hurt that his brain spews out every millisecond.

"i don't want this," baekhyun whispers.

and it's not voiced out but chanyeol can hear it loud and clear: _i don't want you._

he closes his eyes and leaves.

 

 

seven minutes past midnight and chanyeol is caught up in the moon's crystalline glare, the wind ruffling his hair as he stares at the picture of him and baekhyun with the kids during that storytelling session in the library. both of them are hamming it up for the camera, peace signs flashed and eye-smiles on full display, and chanyeol has one arm wound around baekhyun's shoulders. 

it's just a piece of paper but it's cutting him clean.

he takes a breath and flicks the lighter on, and he's just about to set it on fire when he sees minseok hugging his leg in the picture. his hand freezes, and the smoke from the flame dissipates. minseok is smiling, actually smiling, and his eyes seem to be staring right at chanyeol.

chanyeol swallows down a sudden wave of sadness. he shuts off the lighter and tosses it into the trash can, and he lies spread-eagled on the floor. when dawn breaks over the horizon he's still there, clutching the picture to his heart.

 

 

december has descended along with the snow, and chanyeol's in his parka but it can't stave off the chill that covers him from head to toe. he checks his phone again and ascertains that he's in the right place. he doesn't know why he's standing here, just outside the doors of a bookshop, and people swirl around him in their urgent dash for heat and family and friends.

the message had been cryptic and dubious at best, and chanyeol could have ignored it. but even the cold city streets are more alive than his house is right now, and even though he's shivering he still likes being out here where he can smell the crisp, fresh air.

"i thought you wouldn't show up."

chanyeol turns to see kris, breath fogging up in the winter breeze, and he thinks he should have expected this. a month now since he's last seen baekhyun and the latter's still not gone from his life, and maybe he'll always linger wherever chanyeol doesn't look. he looks at kris, looks at the face of the man that baekhyun belongs to, and he can't find it in him to feel resentment. he's just tired and defeated, and he's past feeling nervousness right now.

"kris," chanyeol says, managing to muster a smile.

kris comes closer and chanyeol's still awed that there's someone taller than he is, and he and kris lock gazes. "i just came here to tell you...to take care of baekhyun."

chanyeol forgets to inhale. does kris know? does he think baekhyun cheated on him? for a moment he just stutters, and then he rediscovers words and they stumble out of his lips: "it's not what you think, kris, we're really just --"

"baekhyun told me," kris says, face impassive.

but they'd only been friends. that's what baekhyun had said on that night of endless rain. that's what had torn apart chanyeol's heart. how could he have told kris that they were something else, when baekhyun doesn't even want him, when baekhyun's never showed any signs of wanting him even though chanyeol's tried to delude himself into thinking that?

"he didn't -- he didn't cheat on you, kris, he was loyal," he says with a frantic tone. all this time his desire is still to protect baekhyun. it's his instinct, his knee-jerk reflex; it's the thought he wakes up to even when he and baekhyun aren't even talking or acknowledging each other's existence.

kris frowns at him, and chanyeol has a brief premonition of brittle-bruised veins and purple welts and blood, and there's something menacing hanging off of kris that makes him wary. but then kris shifts and chanyeol can see his expression clearly, and it's one of confusion. "why would baekhyun cheat on me?" kris enunciates. "i'm not his boyfriend."

chanyeol gapes at him. "but -- you're not?"

kris shakes his head. "no, i'm not. what gave you the idea?"

"baekhyun," chanyeol says, mouth dry. "he said...he told me he belonged to you."

at that kris's expression smoothens out and he purses his lips. "idiot," he mutters under his breath. he reverts to his normal volume and says, "so baekhyun didn't explain it to you?"

"i guess he didn't." _talk to him one last time,_ chanyeol remembers luhan saying. had that been just desultory advice, or had luhan somehow known?

"then i will tell you," kris says, his tone firm and decisive. "and you will listen closely because this is important. let's take a walk."

together they walk through the moon-dusted pavements, two tall figures straggling through the winter darkness. and chanyeol can't stop it, he really can't, but there is hope burgeoning in his chest and he can feel the slow _thud_ of his heart once again. it's dangerous when you let yourself believe too much but chanyeol's always been a risk-taker, and until now he doesn't know when to set boundaries.

"baekhyun's parents left him in an orphanage because they couldn't afford to raise him," kris begins, looking straight ahead. "he grew up surrounded by kids who were bitter and adults who barely paid any attention to them. baekhyun was one of the good, smart kids -- he was obedient, he followed instructions, he kept silent when he was told. every day he'd watch and wait for when he'd be chosen and he'd have a family of his own.

"by the time he reached legal age, no one had come for him. no one he could call umma or appa, no one who wanted him, and baekhyun felt so much like a reject in a growing garbage dump. he left the orphanage with what few belongings he had, and he set out to face the world alone.

"he drifted from place to place, never quite finding a reason to stay, and soon his money ran out. that was how i came upon him: he was cold, alone and broken, and he was about to dive off of a cliff."

chanyeol stops. kris notices and he stops as well, turning to face chanyeol. and kris is right in front of him but all chanyeol can see is baekhyun's fractured eyes and insecurity, all he can hear is baekhyun's shaking voice and his whisper of _at least you have a home_ , and now the events baekhyun's taken him to starts to make sense. that day with the kids at the library and minseok's story -- how many times had baekhyun volunteered because he'd been one of those kids once, one of those children looking for a home? all of those things they'd done, the places they'd gone to, were the stepping stones of baekhyun's past.

kris nods, as if to confirm chanyeol's raging thoughts. "and here's the last thing you need to know, chanyeol -- baekhyun says he belongs to me because i found him and treated him like my own brother. he doesn't belong to me in a romantic sense."

chanyeol can't speak. all that eloquence on television and now he's rendered mute, and maybe if he'd seen the train wreck ambling towards him he'd have avoided it a long time ago.

"he feels like he's obligated to stay with me," kris continues softly. "but chanyeol, he wants to belong to you."

chanyeol stares at kris and he can feel his heart slamming back into his chest, patched-up and mangled and distressed but somehow still whole, and it's night and day distilled into emotions all at once.

"take care of him, chanyeol," kris says, and before chanyeol can respond he's walking away. he stares at kris's back until it rounds a corner and vanishes, and then he's left with the falling snow.

chanyeol takes out his phone and stares at the screen. there, still listed under his contacts, is byun baekhyun's number.

 

 

it's christmas eve and there are wishes condensing, and chanyeol is thrumming with an energy he's not sure will ever be contained. the city's alive with celebration, strings of flashing lights decorating every fixture and party poppers wreaking havoc in the midst of human traffic. chanyeol scans the crowd for a familiar figure and then he sees _him_ \-- he sees the unmistakable frame and the luminous eyes of baekhyun, and there is tension lodged into his shoulders that chanyeol hopes he can help erase.

he edges through bodies and sidles to a place behind baekhyun. baekhyun doesn't notice, his head moving as he scans the area for a certain tall man. chanyeol chuckles and he has his hands over baekhyun's eyes, and baekhyun starts flailing right away.

"guess who?" chanyeol whispers into the curve of baekhyun's ear.

baekhyun stiffens. then he brings his hands up and threads them through chanyeol's hands, not lifting them from his eyes. there are people watching them but this moment is suspended, and all chanyeol knows is that he's missed baekhyun so much.

"i'm sorry," baekhyun says, and chanyeol can feel the moisture leaking out of baekhyun's eyes. "i'm sorry, i didn't know how to explain it to you. i was scared you'd leave me once you knew."

"i'd never leave you," chanyeol says with a sudden fierceness. "i'd never leave you."

"but how could i have known that?" baekhyun fires back, still clutching chanyeol's hands with a kind of mad desperation that's not easy to tone down. "there was just no way...and i grew scared, i didn't want to get too attached to you because if you left i'd be shattered. but when we met again all my logic abandoned me, and the thing i'd tried so hard to avoid still happened.

"chanyeol, i don't want this. i don't want to wake up thinking where you are and what you're doing, i don't want to feel sick to my stomach when i can't see you at all. i don't want to keep hoping you're there when i round a corner, and i don't want to be this dependent on you because i won't know how to function when you're gone. no, don't tell me you won't go because someday you will, and it's better if we don't make promises like that because that kind of promise is the easiest to break.

"but i can't help it. i want to belong to you. i want to come home to you. i want us to adopt children and read bedtime stories to them, and i want us to fight over who takes out the trash and who gets to cook. i want to sleep with my head on your shoulder and wake up to your face, i want to stare at you for hours on end without your having to ask the reason why, because that's just what we do."

slowly, chanyeol lowers his hands. baekhyun lets go and he whirls around, his eyes bursting with nebulas that remind chanyeol of a soul that's hungry for love, and tenderness floods him as he cradles baekhyun's face.

"i'm so fucking scared, chanyeol, i don't know what to do."

"what is it that you want?" chanyeol asks, staring straight into baekhyun's eyes. he's waiting, he's hoping, and he wants this to finally be right.

"i want to love you," baekhyun whispers, tears cascading freely down his cheeks, and chanyeol can't take it -- he pulls him even closer until they're intertwined, and he leans down to claim baekhyun's lips. "i want to love you."

"then love me, baekhyun. love me all you want."

 

 

legend says that humans used to have two heads, four legs, and four arms until they were separated, and for the rest of lives, everyone's forever trying to find their other half.

chanyeol thinks it's a story that's not without merit, but when he looks at baekhyun he's reminded of how untrue it is. because it's simply illogical that someone so short and small can ever be the one who completes his "original form" -- their body structures don't match up, and chanyeol teases baekhyun about that every single day. but what chanyeol leaves unsaid is that they don't have to be the same height and the same size -- baekhyun is his other half and that's the only thing his heart knows, and it doesn't matter if baekhyun's 12 cm shorter because he still fits perfectly in chanyeol's arms.

sunrays precipitate and it's the morning coming to take the night away, and beside him baekhyun yawns awake. he looks up at chanyeol with that pretty smile and those sweet brown eyes, and he asks, "so where do we go today?"

chanyeol kisses his cheek and pulls him back up. today he's got an idea, a new place to explore.

"meet me at the intersection of love."

 

 

 


End file.
